The Last Elemental Child

Hello! This is my first story, so I would REALLY appreciate some feedback. That would be really awesome. So yeah, uhhhhh. 

Four children were giving squeals of excitement and pealing laughs as they threw a crudely made ball of cloth in the street. Behind them was a woman who's face was ridden with obvious terror. Interrupting the children's game, she took one of the children aside, a young boy. She began to lead him back to a small house. The boy was visibly confused and was questioning his mother, and tears escaped her eyes. When they entered the house, shouts commenced from the child and the mother began to sob intensely. A man's voice was heard above all of the voices. A final cry was heard. Now, the only sound were that of the mother's wailing. Three soldiers made their way out of the house, swords clinking against their armor. The villagers watched stoically and offered no sympathy. Instead, they gazed at the house, relieved. An innocent child was buried that day.

---

Elsewhere, a girl was practicing her sewing in her room. She threaded the needle, sewing a pattern into the tablecloth. She smiled as she admired her work. She loved to sew, and tried to get as much as she could done. Yells from the front of her house startled her and she dropped the needle, pricking herself in the process. She put her finger in her mouth, sucking on the wound. Frightened, she took her doll into her arms and squeezed tightly. A man came into her room, no emotion on his face. She clutched her doll even more tightly. Her father was being restrained by another man and he was yelling at the man approaching his daughter, telling him to leave her alone. Her mother was feebly hitting another man in an attempt to stop what was about to happen. The approaching man brought out a scroll and unwrapped it. 

"This child has been accused of magic and witchcraft, and has broken the law of Gaurial." The woman began to scream as she heard the words. "As stated by King Siforanel of the Royal Family and the ruler of Gaurial, 'any man, woman, or child accused of magic and witchcraft and/or sorcery shall be sentenced to death by any means necessary.'"

A woman held her daughter tightly as they listened to their friends' distress from across the street. They knew the family and were close with them. What the soldiers were about to do was unjustly and inhumane. The soldiers walked out of the house, unfazed by the cruel deed that they had just committed. She wrapped her arms more tightly around her daughter and she buried her head into her mother's shoulder, as if knowing her blameless friend's fate. Many people had heard the commotion and some looked pained. A graying man behind a food stand, looked guilty, as if he were to blame for the child's death. But then again, no one was able to trust anybody. Not since the King issued the decree.

---

A young man was sitting in a bar, fiddling with a golden coin on the worn wood. He noted the creases in the counter, as if a fist had slammed down on it a long time ago. The bar wasn't noisy and rambunctious, but the sounds were subtle. But all sound stopped when the door creaked open. The footsteps suggested that they were either heavy, or carrying something rather large. But the clinking of metal alerted him to the fact that they were wearing armor. King's soldiers. And he knew what they were there for.  One man approached his back and the others in the room watched uneasily. 

"Can I help you?" The man spoke and twirled the coin, his tone dismissive. 

"You are SilverTongue?"

"I am."

"Take him." He felt strong hands grips his arms and pull him from his seat. That night, more blood was spilled.

---

"Fayelinn! Fayelinn, what are you doing?"

The girl's concentration broke, and the water fell from eye-level. She was a little bit older than a toddler. She looked over her shoulder in time to see a heavy woman hobble out of the tiny house. 

"Fayelinn! How many times have I told you not to play in the mud?" She scholded.

Fayelinn smiled. "Once more than the last, mother." She replied. However, his woman was clearly not the girl's mother. Mr. and Mrs. Zarry's blonde hair and heaviness proved that they could not produce this stick-thin brunette. 

"Come inside." Mrs. Zarry sighed. "It will rain again soon. Lord knows we've had enough for the month." She hustled back in, and Fayelinn turned her face to the ominous clouds. Another smile touched her small pink lips, and she stood up and followed the woman inside.

---

Fayelinn sat in her small bed, running her fingers quickly through the tiny flame. She gave a giggle as the candle extinguished and then relight. She watched the flame flicker extensively, then take the shape of a minute cat the size of the original flame. The cat danced across the room, the candle dead and the cat lighting up the corners of where it headed. It looked like a big firefly.

Mrs. Zarry opened her adopted daughter's door, examining the room but finding nothing suspicious. Ilya was curled in her bed with the blankets over her body. The candle sat on the drawer across the room, undisturbed. Confused, she quietly closed the door. She could've sworn that she had seen a light in the room.

---

The silver lake was still, but for the unusual ripples at the shore. To a passerby at a distance, the disturbance would've seemed threatening and eerie. No one would've seen the girl sitting on the bank. A bubble of water rose, containing a panicking fish. It raced inside the small space. Fayelinn frowned and released the fish. She felt slightly disgusted at herself, for she was the cause for the fish's distress. Then she relaxed. She had meant no harm and had caused no harm, except for a slight panic. Ilya was now reaching her teenage years and thus, was finding new ways to entertain herself. 

She lifted her hand and focused on the sandy and damp bank. Slowly, but surely, the water rose from the ground, leaving the bank completely dry. Suddenly, the water collapsed and she fell to her knees, exhausted. She mentally noted that she should've payed more attention to the limit at which she could use her gift.

---

The girl was an average beauty. She had accepted this. She was not ugly, but she was never as beautiful as her friends. Her skin wasn't pale and it didn't sparkle with the sun. In fact, she was very tan, unlike the majority of the teenage girls. She was short, very short for her delicate age of sixteen. Her hair stooped to her lower back and was very unruly. It was wavy and no matter how hard she tried, she could never tame her brown hair with a brush. But she had always loved the fact that her hair was not an ordinary brown, but tinted with a red that shone lustrously when the sun turned its gaze upon her. Despite the fact that she wished for blonde and silky hair, she was satisfied.  

Her eyes were not a light color that could capture people's hearts. Instead, they opted to catch people's minds and to faze their conscience. They were a brown that matched her hair, but they did not hold tints of red. Her brown eyes were flecked with gold, puzzling all that ever laid eyes on her. Still, the boys looked at her, they passed her up and conversed with her more stunning and normal friends.

No. Fayelinn was an average beauty. And she had accepted this.